Page 54 of Silent Road

"More dangerous than Sheila wandering around in this whiteout, not knowing where to go?"

Finn stared at her.She had a point, but the thought of risking Star's safety...

"I know you're worried about me," she said more softly."But I'm worried abouther.She needs us, Finn, and that's not usually the case.We can't let her down."

He studied her face—the stubborn set of her jaw, the determination in her eyes.So much like Sheila, even though they weren't biologically related.

"Okay," he said finally."But we do this smart.We take emergency supplies, extra flashlights.And if anything feels wrong, we turn back immediately."

Star nodded solemnly."Deal.What do we need?"

As they gathered supplies, Finn outlined the plan.They would follow the guide rope to the maintenance shed.He would talk Star through the generator startup while he handled the radio calibration.If everything went perfectly, they might be able to reach Sheila in fifteen minutes.

If everything went perfectly.

"Ready?"he asked, zipping up his coat.

Star pulled on her gloves and nodded.

Together, they stepped into the storm, the wind immediately tearing at their clothes.The guide rope was a lifeline in the whiteout, their only connection to safety.As they moved forward step by step, Finn could only hope they weren't already too late.

Sheila was out there somewhere in this blank white world.And he was finally doing something to help her.

He just prayed it would be enough.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Mark Davidson stumbled through knee-deep snow, one arm pressed against his bleeding side.The research station loomed ahead—a concrete bunker half-buried in the mountainside, its entrance barely visible through the thickening storm.

Just keep going,he told himself.You're a dead man if you stop now.

He'd been running for what felt like hours, though his phone was long gone, so he couldn't be sure.The cut in his side burned with each step.Not deep enough to kill him, but enough to slow him down.Which was probably exactly what his attacker had intended.

The ambush had come out of nowhere.One moment he'd been setting up for a video, trying to get the perfect angle for his followers, and the next—sharp pain, his phone flying into the snow, someone moving with terrible purpose through the storm.

Mark had run blind at first, pure survival instinct driving him deeper into the wilderness.But as the initial panic faded, memory had taken over.He knew these mountains.Had grown up exploring every hidden corner with his father, back when Dad was still on ski patrol.

Including this place.

The entrance was right where he remembered—a heavy metal door set into concrete, weathered by decades of storms.He'd first discovered it when he was twelve, during one of his solo expeditions.The door had been locked then, but he'd found another way in through a maintenance tunnel.He and his friends had spent countless summer afternoons exploring the abandoned facility, making up stories about what kind of research had gone on here.

Now, it might be his only chance for survival.

Mark reached the door, his frozen fingers fumbling with the handle.To his surprise, it opened with a grinding screech.He practically fell inside, slamming the door behind him.The sound echoed through darkened corridors as he slid to the floor, fighting to catch his breath.

Light filtered weakly through dusty windows high in the walls.The entrance chamber was exactly as he remembered—a security checkpoint with an abandoned desk, ancient monitors covered in cobwebs, scattered papers turned yellow with age.Only now it felt less like an adventure and more like a tomb.

He forced himself to his feet, grimacing at the pain in his side.He had to barricade the door.Had to find a way to stay warm.Had to...

A sound from outside made him freeze.Footsteps in the snow?Or just the wind?

Moving as quietly as he could, Mark began searching for anything he could use to block the door.His father's voice echoed in his memory: "Always secure your position first.Everything else comes second."

His fingers brushed something solid in the darkness—an old filing cabinet.Still hefty despite decades of rust.He wrestled it in front of the door, every scrape across the concrete floor seeming impossibly loud.Would the sound carry through the storm?Was his pursuer already out there, listening?

The cabinet wouldn't be enough, not if his pursuer was as determined as he'd shown himself to be so far.Mark found a heavy desk and dragged it over, ignoring the protests from his injured side.Only when he'd piled every movable object he could find against the entrance did he allow himself to really look at his surroundings.

The security station opened onto a long corridor, disappearing into darkness.He remembered following it as a kid, exploring the labs and offices beyond.Back then, the facility had felt massive—an endless maze of possibilities.They'd invented wild theories about what had happened here.

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